


Murderers Don’t Just Show Up On Your Doorstep

by asingulardoorknob



Category: Knives Out
Genre: F/M, Fugitive, Murderer, My man Ransom broke out of jail, criminal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24175786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asingulardoorknob/pseuds/asingulardoorknob
Summary: Of all the people you’d expected to answer the door to, Ransom Drysdale was not one of them. Especially after he’d been charged with murder.
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

A strike of lightning lit up the dark walls of your house as rain pounded loudly on the windows. You sat in an armchair gazing into the gentle flames flickering in the fireplace, an open book laid across your lap. You were only a few chapters off finishing it, and tonight just had the perfect atmosphere for reading a horror novel. You had only just opened the book when three loud knocks rang through your apartment. You started at the noise. It seemed like something right out of your book. But, things like that don’t happen in real life, right? Murderers don’t just show up on your doorstep out of the blue.  
You crossed the hardwood floor and opened the front door halfway.  
"Hey, Y/N," the man standing on your front porch said. You blanched. Of all the people you’d expected to answer the door to, Ransom Drysdale was not one of them.  
"Ransom?" you asked breathlessly. He smirked at you.  
"In the flesh, Beamer," he teased. You cringed slightly at the old nickname. You’d earned it as a teen, back when you were still a newbie to jacking cars. Ransom had caught you trying to steal his Beamer and given you the nickname after deciding to let you off the hook.  
"You’ve got lots to learn, Beamer. And you’d better learn them soon, before you get caught by someone who actually values the law," he’d said to you, before sending you running back across the parking lot.  
"I thought you were in jail for murder," you said. Ransom winked at you.  
"I was," he said vaguely.  
"They let you go?"  
"Not exactly." You stared at him in disbelief.  
"Ransom, are you crazy?" you practically yelled. He slapped a hand over your mouth.  
"Shut up, Beamer. We don’t need the whole neighbourhood knowing I’m here," he said. You sighed against his hand and opened the front door a little wider. Ransom took his hand off your mouth.  
"Get in here, before someone sees you," you muttered. He smirked and slipped past you into your house. You rolled your eyes. Apparently murderers do just show up on your doorstep sometimes. You followed him through the house and watched as he took the seat you’d been sitting in earlier, tossing your book to the ground.  
"Okay, now you have to tell me what you did," you said. Ransom scoffed.  
"Not even gonna offer me anything to eat or drink first, Beamer?" You stood your ground.  
"Ransom." He rolled his eyes.  
"Fine, I escaped jail. Happy?"  
"Ransom!"  
"What?"  
"Why are you here?" you yelled. He sighed and bit his lip nervously before answering.  
"You’re the only person I trust," he said slowly. Your eyebrows shot up.  
"Really?" you asked. He nodded, making a point not to make eye contact.  
"Ever since college, when you caught me embezzling money from the school."  
"And I didn’t turn you in. Which was a mistake," you said softly. Ransom looked up at you and sighed.  
"You saved me from a lot of hell from my family." You cringed slightly at the thought. He wasn’t wrong though. Ransom’s family was terrible.  
"Doesn’t mean I can’t regret it," you muttered. "Or fix my mistakes right now." Ransom scoffed.  
"Come on, Beamer. We both know you won’t call the cops on me," he said. You frowned at him.  
"And why is that?" He rolled his eyes.  
"Because you’d get locked up too, sweetheart. The Feds find out I’m here, they’re gonna wonder why, and they’ll start digging. Eventually they’ll find-."  
"What, Ransom? That I was your girlfriend back in college?"  
"Come on, Beamer," he said, as you pulled your phone out of your pocket. "Don’t do this."  
"It was nice seeing you, Ransom," you said, as you dialed 911 and pressed the phone to your ear. "I’d run now, if I were you." Ransom glared daggers as he advanced towards you.  
"Ransom. Stay the fuck away from me," you said clearly. He took another step forward and swiped the phone from your hand right as the operator picked up.  
"I’m so sorry," he said, fake remorse practically dripping from his voice. "Wrong number." You watched in anger as he hung up and shoved your phone in his pocket.  
"Ransom!" you yelled. He rolled his eyes.  
"Come on, Beamer. It’s only for a little while." You bit down on your tongue in frustration. It was tempting to let him stay. As much as you hated to admit it, you did still care for him. But, he was a murderer and no matter if you still loved him or not, it was a fact that couldn’t just be overlooked.  
"No, Rans. Get out of my house," you said, your old pet name for him slipping out. He grinned, knowing that he’d won.  
"Nice try, Beamer, but it looks like you’ll be stuck with me for a while," he said with a wink. "Though I have a feeling you won’t mind too much." You threw up your hands in frustration.  
"Fine. But you get the couch," you said, giving in. He shot you a small smirk as he collapsed face first onto the small couch.  
"Dick," you muttered under your breath. He raised his head up slightly.  
"I heard that, Beamer." You spun on your heel and started to walk down the hallway towards your own bedroom.  
"Hey, Y/N?" Ransom asked, causing you to halt in your tracks. You looked over your shoulder. "Thanks." You rolled your eyes.  
"Whatever, Rans. Just get some sleep," you said.  
"I don’t have anything to sleep in," he said after a short pause.  
"Give me a minute." You rushed into your room and grabbed a soft pair of men’s pajama pants out of the top drawer of your dresser. They were a couple years old, but they’d have to do. You made your way out to the living room again and handed Ransom the pants. He frowned when he saw them.  
"Are these mine?" he asked. You shot him a sly grin and headed back down the hallway.  
"Goodnight, Ransom."


	2. Chapter 2

You rubbed your eyes tiredly and sat up in bed, the smell of freshly brewed coffee drifting through the air. Wait. Freshly brewed coffee? Who would be making coffee at- you glanced over at the clock on your bedside table- ten in the morning? As you crawled out of bed everything from the night before came rushing back to you. Right, Ransom. You rolled your eyes and wandered out to the kitchen.   
“Hey, Beamer,” Ransom said cheerily. You ignored him and made your way over to the coffee pot, which was quickly swiped from your hands. “Not even a good morning?” he asked. You turned to glare at him. He was standing in the center of the kitchen, holding your coffee pot just out of reach. Your gaze left his face and traveled down his bare chest. You’d forgotten how fit Ransom was.   
“Enjoying the view, sweetheart?” Ransom teased.  
“Shut up,” you grumbled, quickly hopping up onto the counter and grabbing the coffee pot from his grip. It was still warm. You smiled softly as you hopped down from the counter.   
“How long are you planning to stay here?” you asked, reaching up to grab a mug from the cupboard just above you. Ransom didn’t respond. Turning around, you caught his gaze travelling down your body. You crossed your arms.   
“Enjoying the view, sweetheart?” you asked, mocking Ransom’s earlier taunt. He raised his eyes to yours and simply smirked. Dick.   
“Until the cops stop looking for me,” he said, turning around and giving you a view of his gorgeous back muscles. You shook your head. No. This was Ransom Drysdale. A murderer and your ex. You broke up with him for a reason. You turned your back on him and poured the coffee into your cup. There was no way you could put up with him for that long. You leaned against the counter and took a sip of your coffee, watching as Ransom did the same on the other side of the room. You stood there, staring at each other, frozen, for a few seconds.   
“You can stay here for a week,” you said, interrupting the silence. “Then you have to leave.” He winked at you.  
“Unless you want me to stay by the end of the week.” You scoffed.  
“I won’t.”   
“I wouldn’t be so sure, Beamer.”

Ransom glanced up from his spot on the couch as you walked into the room.   
“We need to talk,” you announced sternly, taking a seat beside Ransom on the couch.   
“We talked last night,” he said, a pinched expression overtaking his face. You glared at him.  
“How’d you get in there in the first place?” you asked, referring to the prison. He tapped his foot restlessly.  
“Murder charge.”  
“I know that, idiot. But what did you do?”  
“Murder.” You narrowed your eyes. “I drugged a housekeeper with morphine and she died,” Ransom said, finally giving in.   
“Why?”   
“To frame someone else.” You raised your eyebrows. Ransom sighed and eventually told you the whole story of how he’d tried to murder his own grandfather and frame the nurse, Marta. But, that had failed, and he’d been caught by- as Ransom put it- that Kentucky fried foghorn leghorn drawling detective.  
“Let me get this straight,” you said. “You hired Benoit Blanc, one of the best detectives in the world and thought he wouldn’t see straight through you?” Ransom scratched the back of his neck.  
“Well, when you put it like that-.” You scoffed.   
“This is why you were never the brains of the operation back in college.” He raised an eyebrow.  
“The operation as in our relationship, or crime?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.  
“Both,” you said with a wink. “Your job was just to stand there and look pretty.” He smirked at you.  
“And is that still my job?” You got up from the couch and turned your back to him so he couldn’t see the blush growing across your cheeks.  
“I’m going out. Is there anything you need?” you asked, changing the subject.   
“New clothes, and better alcohol,” he answered smoothly, not even missing a beat. You glanced down at the glass in his hand. It was the best whiskey you could afford. You simply grabbed your keys off the end table beside him.   
“I’ll be back in an hour,” you said. “Try not to break anything while I’m gone.”

Shopping for Ransom was difficult, to say the least. His sense of style, while quite good, was ridiculously expensive. You tried your best to buy him some-what nice clothes, but you knew none of them were even close to what he usually wore, or at least what he wore in college. You rubbed a hand across your brow. It didn't matter anyways. Ransom was a wanted fugitive. He’d wear what you got him no matter what. So you ended up picking out a couple t-shirts- all probably one size too small, but who were you to judge- a couple pairs of jeans, and a long trench coat, similar to the one you’d stolen too many times to count when you were dating. You smiled softly at the fond memory, then shook your head. No. Ransom was a convicted murderer now. He was not the same man you once- and maybe still- loved. You frowned as you walked over to the cashier. In a matter of hours your life had become a hot mess. Letting your ex-boyfriend- a convicted murderer- lay low at your house after escaping jail. Dear god. What were you doing?   
“Hi, how are you today?” the cashier, Jenny, asked.   
“It’s been a crazy twenty-four hours,” you said vaguely.   
“Then I guess you’ve heard that Ransom Drysdale broke out of jail last night?” she asked with a grin. Your heart stopped momentarily. She knew about Ransom? Then it hit you. Of course she did. He was a convicted murderer in a high security prison. It would have been all over the news last night and today. You sighed quietly and nodded to the cashier.  
“Yeah, it’s crazy,” you said. She smiled and   
“I overheard some cops say his ex-girlfriend lives somewhere around where he was last seen,” she said as she handed you your two bags of groceries. “And apparently they’re going to check it out this afternoon at some point.” Your eyes widened. Shit, you had to get home.  
“I have to go,” you said quickly. “But have a nice day, and stay safe!”  
“You too,” she called. You could feel her confused gaze on your back as you rushed out of the store. Of course the cops found out about you. It was easy to find out you and Ransom had dated. He had never deleted the pictures of the two of you off of his Instagram, and neither had you. You had tried to convince yourself it was just because they were nice pictures, but deep inside you knew that neither of you were willing to let the other go yet. You sighed and pulled out your phone. Calling Ransom was the first thing that needed to be done if you were both going to get out of this alive. After three rings Ransom picked up.  
“Hey, Beamer. You really missed me that much?” he teased. You rolled your eyes as you shoved the two bags into your trunk and slammed the door.  
“Ransom, listen to me. The cops might be on their way. You need to hide, now.” You heard Ransom swear violently on the other end of the line.  
“There’s a fake wall at the back of my closet. Open the Adidas shoe box and there’s a small button in there. Press it and the wall will open. It’ll close exactly fifteen seconds after you press the button so you have to get in there quickly. I’ll be home in ten minutes,” you explained. There was a loud rustling from Ransom’s end and then silence.  
“Thanks, Y/N,” he said seriously. You smiled gently despite yourself.  
“No problem, just stay quiet, okay?”  
“You got it, Beamer.”


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as you pulled into your driveway your car was immediately surrounded by armed cops.  
"Y/N Y/L/N! Exit the vehicle with your hands above your head!" the cop, seemingly in charge yelled. You swore under your breath. Had they found Ransom? You slowly opened the car door and stepped out with your arms raised. Two cops rushed forward and pulled you away from the car.  
"May I ask what the problem is, Officer?" you asked politely. One of the officers sighed.  
"Your ex-boyfriend, Ransom Drysdale escaped prison yesterday, and we have reason to believe he may be in the area," he explained. You quickly feigned shock.  
"Oh my- oh my god. I'm sorry, that's just- I hadn't heard- that's terrible." The officer smiled gently.  
"I understand, and I'm sorry about this Miss but we do need to search your house in case you are hiding him," the officer said, holding out a search warrant. You nodded and handed him your keys.  
"Of course, Officer." The officer smiled and motioned to the incharge officer.   
"Let’s go!" he yelled. Your stomach flipped nervously as seven armed officers made their way through the front door of your house. You were fairly sure they wouldn't find Ransom but, there was no guarantee. You watched as an older man wearing a long grey trench coat broke free of the small crowd of remaining police officers. He looked familiar, but you weren't sure where from.  
"Ah, Miss Y/L/N. I’ve been waiting to meet you," he said, his voice strong with a southern accent. Then it clicked. This was the detective Ransom had described to you. The one with the "kentucky fried foghorn, leghorn drawl," or whatever. This was Benoit Blanc. You decided to play dumb.  
"And you are?"  
"Of course, where are my manners? Detective Benoit Blanc," he said, holding out his hand. You shook it slowly.  
"You were the one to put Ransom behind bars, right?" you asked. He withdrew his hand and pulled a notebook from one of his jacket pockets.  
"Yes, but that is not important right now. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"   
"Of course not," you said with a small shrug. Blanc nodded.   
"When was the last time you talked to Mr. Drysdale?"   
"Probably when we broke up," you lied. Blanc jotted something down on his notepad.  
"You haven’t talked to him at all in the last couple years?" You shook your head.  
"I never really felt the need to. He was a dick, and I cut things off. That was it."  
"And you’ve not noticed anything weird or received any communication from Mr. Drysdale since he escaped?" You shook your head.  
"Alright, thank you Miss Y/L/N. Please don’t hesitate to call me if you think of anything else or receive any communication from Mr. Drysdale," Blanc said as he handed you a small business card. You smiled.  
"Of course, thank you Detective Blanc." He nodded and walked back down your driveway. You let out a soft sigh of relief. Benoit Blanc was one of the best detectives in the world, and lying to him was not and will not be easy. You paced silently up and down the length of your driveway. The cops were taking a lot longer than you had hoped they would. Finally two cops burst through the front door of your house. You held your breath as you awaited their verdict.  
"Clear!" one of them announced loudly to the rest of the force. A small smile tugged at your lips. Thank God. That meant Ransom hadn’t been found. One of the officers approached you and handed you back your keys.  
"You’re good to go back inside now, Miss," she said.   
"Thank you," you called over your shoulder as you made your way over to the front door. You heard a small chorus of muttered ‘no problem’s as you went inside and slammed the door behind you. Making your way into your room you let out a small sigh of relief upon seeing the Adidas box untouched. You opened it up and pressed the button inside. The wall opened and Ransom emerged from the secret room.  
"You know," he started calmly. "I heard you call me a dick" You sighed goodnaturedly.   
"If that’s how you’re gonna thank me, maybe I’ll call the cops back in here." Ransom’s face softened suddenly.  
"Thank you, Y/N. I mean it, I owe you one." You could feel your heart beating in your chest.   
"It was nothing, Rans. But, we have to talk about Blanc." He nodded. You knew he had seen Blanc through the small screens you had installed in the secret room. They were for just this situation and even had audio for if you needed to see and hear what was going on outside,  
"I saw him talking to you. Him being here is not good for us."  
"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," you said sarcastically, nudging him with your shoulder. "What are we going to do about him?" His face shifted slightly and you realized what he was thinking. "That doesn’t involve murder, Rans," you added pointedly.   
"I don’t know, Beamer. Blanc’s ridiculously smart, even I’ll admit that." You rubbed a hand across your face.   
"We’ll have to throw him off our trail somehow." Ransom smirked.  
"Our trail? So, you’re letting me stay for more than a week now?"   
"No, it’s our trail because I just hid you from the cops. Obviously it’s not just you anymore," you shot back. Ransom shrugged.  
"It was worth a shot."   
"I’m serious, Ransom. We need to figure out what we’re going to do about Blanc," you said.   
"I know you are, but we can figure that out later. We just evaded the cops, we have at least a couple hours before anything else happens." You glared at him in frustration.  
"Fine. But only because you’re pissing me off Ransom." He smirked and quickly strutted out of the room.  
"Dick," you muttered under your breath. The gentle thud of Ransom's retreating footsteps suddenly stopped.  
"I heard that, sweetheart," he called. You glowered at the door he had just left through as your phone started ringing in your pocket.   
"Hello?" you asked as you answered the call.  
"Hi, Miss Y/L/N." You cursed in your head at the sound of Benoit Blanc's southern drawl.  
"Detective Blanc."  
"You seem to know a lot about Ransom," he said. You laughed nervously.  
"Well I did date him for two and a half years." Detective Blanc hummed thoughtfully on the other end of the line. You glanced up in time to notice Ransom poke his head into the room. He raised a questioning eyebrow.  
Blanc, you mouthed to him.  
"I was hoping you'd help me in this investigation. I feel your knowledge of Mr. Drysdale could help us bring him in," Blanc said suddenly. You panicked and gave the first answer that came to your head, and immediately regretted it.  
"Of course, yes, anything to get him off the streets."  
"Wonderful, I'll pick you up tomorrow at noon so we can begin," Detective Blanc said, and the line went dead.

Shit.

**Author's Note:**

> I currently have another multi-chapter fic going on FanFiction.Net so I apologize if updates are ridiculously infrequent.  
> I love you all <3   
> -asingulardoorknob


End file.
